


XF Shorts

by impulsive_astrophile



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:27:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25623619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impulsive_astrophile/pseuds/impulsive_astrophile
Summary: Various prompt fills and mini fics from my Tumblr.Chapter 1 - Scully pushes Mulder into a poolChapter 2 - One situation in which Scully calls Mulder babyChapter 3 - "It's too cold! Come back!"Chapter 4 - "What are you hiding behind your back?"Chapter 5 - She tried to refrain from laughing at the sight in front of herChapter 6 - Skinner runs a betting pool for when Mulder and Scully will finally get together, Scully starts placing betsChapter 7 - "Are you really taking his side right now?"Chapter 8 - mulder eats at olive garden w scully and puts breadsticks in his pockets to go homeChapter 9 - forehead kiss + cozy sweater
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 26
Kudos: 109





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter will have its own summary, as well as tags and a rating in the beginning notes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic request from @baronessblixen on Tumblr, based on this prompt: scully pushing mulder fully suited into the motel pool during a work-related argument 💘

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: mild fluff, mild angst, established MSR, angry Scully, clueless Mulder  
> Rating: Teen

“All I ask,” Scully grits out, stalking along beside Mulder, “is that you call me. _Before_ you do something stupid.”

“Sorry, Scully,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “I forgot my phone.”

“You forgot your phone.”

“Yeah.”

“You forgot your phone,” Scully repeats, voice dangerous.

Mulder clears his throat, looking nervous now. “Uh-huh.”

“You _forgot_ ,” Scully’s glare is fierce, repeating herself again, “your phone.”

“Yeah. Look, Scully,” Mulder tries to placate her, “everything turned out fine, right? I’m still here to get under your skin.”

“Mm,” Scully hums, distinctly not amused. He’s clearly not seeing how much this affects her. _Well, maybe this will get it through his thick skull,_ she thinks.

She waits a few seconds until they’re passing the motel pool, then gives him a hard shove into the deep end.

He hits the water mid-sentence. Scully would feel bad, but she knows he can swim, and it’s not like he has his phone with him to get ruined. She’s hoping the shock of the cold water will get his attention and show him just how serious she is about this.

Mulder’s suit jacket billows out around him as he surfaces, treading water and looking betrayed. “What gives, Scully?”

“Figure it out,” she says, stalking back to their motel room.

He comes in a few minutes later, looking like a drowned rat. Guilt worms its way into her heart when she notices his teeth chattering.

“Wait here,” Scully says sternly, thanking her past self for having the good sense to bring her largest, fluffiest towel.

She returns to his side, towel slung over her shoulder. She peels his blazer off his shoulders and tugs his tie loose, hanging both on the coat rack by the door. Next comes his shirt, which she tugs out of his pants and unbuttons with practiced ease. It follows the blazer on the rack.

She strips the rest of him quickly and efficiently. “Come on,” she urges, bundling him up in the towel and depositing him on the bed. Then she heads to the bathroom and tosses the rest of his clothes over the shower rod to dry.

He stares up at her balefully when she returns. She sighs, sitting beside him and wrapping an arm around his back so she can rub some warmth into him.

“I didn’t know where you were or what you were doing,” she says when he finally stops shivering. “Then I get a call from an unknown number that turns out to be you, telling me that you’re in trouble and need me to pick you up.” She rests her forehead on his shoulder. “Mulder, do you know how worried I was about you?” She whispers, her grip on him tightening unconsciously.

Mulder shifts in her arms, towel falling onto the bed as he pulls her close. “I’m sorry, Scully,” he says sincerely. He still forgets, years into their partnership and months into their relationship, that someone actually cares about him. Worries about him. Will be there to berate him when he inevitably ends up in a hospital bed or on the wrong side of a cell door. “I’ll do better next time.”

“You’d better,” Scully says, voice muffled from where her face is buried in his chest. “Just know, though,” she pulls back to look him in the eyes, “that payback is a bitch. I can do much worse than pushing you into a pool… and I will if you scare me like that again.”

Mulder nods, gaze equal parts scared and smitten. “I wouldn’t expect any less from my scary wife.”

She flicks him for that. “I’m serious.”

“I know,” Mulder responds, shivering involuntarily. “I love that about you, Scully. You’re terrifying when you want to be.”

Scully chuckles, shifting to stroke his face tenderly with one hand. The other comes to rest on his thigh, which is when she notices the growing tent underneath the towel pooled around his waist. “Oh,” she breathes, shifting her hand closer, “you _really_ love it, don’t you?”

Mulder’s hips buck and he nods, biting his lip. She puts her arms around his neck and swings her leg over to straddle him.

Leaning in close, she whispers, breath hot on his ear, “if you’re bad, I’ll find a way to make sure you don’t.” Mulder whimpers. “But if you’re a good boy for me, I’ll make it worth your while.”

“I’ll be good,” Mulder promises, desperate.

Scully smiles, wide and predatory. “Let me show you what happens when you’re good.” She pushes him back on the bed. He lays there, blinking up at her with wide eyes. He knows better than to move. “Don’t make me show you what happens when you’re bad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on my Tumblr (@impulsive-astrophile)! I take prompts there :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully definitely calls Mulder baby... here's a snapshot of one situation when she would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Angst, Hurt Mulder, Mulder whump, Scully whump, worried Scully  
> Rating: Teen

Mulder’s been shot. Crumpled on the ground, he lays with his head in Scully’s lap. She has both hands pressed firmly against his wound, and it should be painful, but he can’t feel it. Blood pulses out between her fingers, coating her hands, his shirt, the ground beneath them.

Then his heart stops beating.

Scully swears hers does too, in that moment, before she manages to kick herself into gear and start compressions.

_1, 2, 3, 4. Puff._

_Optimism._

“Come on, Mulder.”

_1, 2, 3, 4. Puff._

_Anger._

“Breathe, damn it!”

_1, 2, 3, 4. Puff._

_Desperation._

“Please, baby, breathe for me. I need you.”

_1, 2, 3, 4. Puff._

A faint heartbeat stutters to life under her fingers.

_Relief._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on my Tumblr (@impulsive-astrophile)! I take prompts there :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue prompt fill: "It's too cold! Come back!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Fluff, pure fluff, cuddling  
> Rating: Gen

She misses him as soon as he slips out of her arms. “Mulder,” she whines, “it’s too cold! Come back!” 

“Sorry Scully, nature calls,” Mulder responds from the bathroom. When he returns, she all but yanks him in, pulling the covers over the both of them and snuggling into his back. Mulder chuckles. “What am I, your personal hot water bottle?” 

“Yes,” Scully says, unrepentant. One of her arms curls around his middle, the other reaching up so her palm can curve over the swell of his pec. He threads his fingers through hers, the soft thud of his heartbeat palpable beneath their joined hands. 

They lay there quietly for a while, enjoying the moment. They rarely get any time to themselves, it seems, and it’s rarer still for Mulder’s mouth not to be running about one thing or another. 

Scully’s in a blissful, half-asleep-but-still-cognizant state when Mulder finally speaks, voice sleepy. “Scully?” She hums. “Does soap have any calories?” 

Scully huffs. “Mulder, why would you eat soap in the first place?”

“No, not if you eat it,” Mulder says as if it should have been obvious. “When you wash with it.”

“What?” So this is what Fox Mulder thinks about at 11 pm. “Of course it doesn’t have any calories, Mulder.”

“Oh.” He nods. “Thanks, Scully. I’ve been wondering that for weeks.” A few seconds later he’s snoring softly. 

_I love you, you Oxford-educated idiot,_ she thinks to herself as she pulls him closer and presses a kiss to the back of his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on my Tumblr (@impulsive-astrophile)! I take prompts there :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the "send me the first sentence of a fic and I'll write the next five" challenge. (this one is a bit more than five sentences)
> 
> First sentence: "What are you hiding behind your back?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: short, actual puppy Fox Mulder, exasperated Scully, mild Mulder whump  
> Rating: Gen

“What are you hiding behind your back?”

Mulder shifts, further concealing the object in his hands. “Nothing.” 

“Mulder,” Scully says, fixing Mulder with a stern look, “what are you hiding behind your back?”

“Nothing!” He insists. 

She says nothing, holding out her hand expectantly; he sticks his lower lip out and hands it over. “A casefile, Mulder? Really? I told you no work.” 

“But I’m bored, Scully,” he whines, puppy-dog eyes out in full force. “There’s nothing to do just sitting here.” 

Scully sighs. “I know, but you shouldn’t be reading with a head injury.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on my Tumblr (@impulsive-astrophile)! I take prompts there :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the "send me the first sentence of a fic and I'll write the next five" challenge. (this one is also a bit more than five sentences)
> 
> First sentence: She tried to refrain from laughing at the sight in front of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: very short, fluff, sleepy Mulder, fond Scully  
> Rating: Gen

She tried to refrain from laughing at the sight in front of her.

Mulder was staring up at her blearily, hair sticking out every which way, crease marks marring the side of his face where it’d been pressed against a stack of papers. “Scully?” His voice is scratchy.

Scully gives in to the urge to chuckle, crossing the room to his side and pulling his crooked glasses off his face. “Mulder, we talked about this.” He opens his mouth to protest or offer an excuse, but she puts a finger over his lips to silence him, letting her other hand run through his hair. A soft smile graces her lips. “Come on, sleepyhead, let’s get you to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on my Tumblr (@impulsive-astrophile)! I take prompts there :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It started out as a joke. Really, it did.
> 
> Written for @iconicscullyoutfits on Tumblr based on her prompt: "yo PLEASE write a fic about Scully anonymously placing bets in skinner's black market pool about when she and mulder would get together, half f*cking around, half serious, and 110% correct"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Teen  
> Tags: fluff, humor, betting pools, Skinner Ships It, everyone ships it actually, cute Mulder, cunning Scully, bold Scully, there's no angst to be found in this one folks, just pure unadulterated fluff

It started out as a joke. Really, it did. 

She’d overheard two agents talking about it on her way back down to the basement with lunch one day. 

_"Did you place your bet yet this week?"_

_"Yeah - I decided to go further out this time. They have to get together by August, right?"_

_"Dude, you've been saying that since 1993."_

_"Have you_ seen _the way he looks at her, all the goddamn time? And the way she looks at him when she thinks he's not looking? They spend all that time cooped up in that tiny basement office... they've got to fuck it out sooner or later."_

_The first man laughed. "You've been saying that since 1993, too.”_

Scully had entered the elevator then, so that’d been all she heard - but it’d been enough to make her want to look into it. And when she’d found out that Skinner ( _Skinner, of all people!_ ) was running it, she’d known she had to get it on it, if only for a few good laughs. She’d been placing anonymous bets every week since. 

For a while, it had been an endless source of amusement - she’d lost count of the number of times she’d laughed so hard at a ridiculously specific bet ($10 on them kissing on October 1st, 1996 at 10:14 am; $5 on them feeling each other up on June 14th in the north stairwell, third floor) that Mulder had asked her was what so funny. The only answer she ever gave him was to smile and dissolve into laughter again. 

But over time, she’d found herself becoming more and more invested. That was how she’d first noticed that she was actually interested in him, been able to identify that sharp burn she felt every time Mulder showed interest in another woman as jealousy. 

She kept placing bets, trying to prove to herself that it was still just a joke - but ultimately, it backfires on her. She’s so thoroughly invested in the idea of their relationship as a third party observer that by the time she realizes she’s in love with him (giving her a more personal, veered interest), she knows she has to make it happen. 

Scully makes her last bet on a Monday: $20 on Scully kissing Mulder in front of Skinner’s office that Friday, 3:15 pm. 

When she wins, she’s going to take him out, buy him all his favorite foods, maybe go back to her apartment and make out with him on the couch. Then she’ll take him on a long vacation, get him to relax for once, and get to know him in all the ways she’s never been able to before.

She spends all week setting it up; she goes to his apartment every day after work, flirts with him in the hallways, puts her hands all over him in the cafeteria. It makes Mulder adorably flustered, and if it has the added benefit of making bets pour into the betting pool, no one has to know. 

Their meeting with Skinner that Friday ends at 3:13 - cutting it a little close for Scully’s taste, but still leaving just enough time. 

“Mulder, wait,” Scully says, grabbing his arm before those long legs can carry him down the hallway. 

“What is it, Scully?” Mulder asks, looking puzzled. She’s usually as eager as he is to get away from these meetings, even if she’d never show it so openly. 

Eyes fixed on the clock, Scully lets her hand stroke Mulder’s arm to still him. “Just wait.” The motion has the desired effect, and Mulder stays where he is. 

Five seconds to 3:15, Scully wraps Mulder’s tie around her tiny fist. 

Three seconds ‘til, she reels him in by that scrap of fabric, dragging him down to her level. 

At 3:15 on the dot, she presses her lips firmly to his. 

His mouth opens in shock and she uses the opportunity to invade it, pushing her tongue past his teeth. He lets out a moan that she captures with her mouth as she pushes him against the door to Skinner’s office hard enough to rattle it. 

Passers-by stop and stare openly, watching as Scully devours him on the spot and he recovers enough to kiss back, just a little. 

“God-fucking-dammit!” Someone swears loudly in the background. “That’s five thousand dollars!” 

Scully smirks into Mulder’s mouth, pulling back to get some air, admiring the effect her kiss has had on Mulder; the flush in his cheeks, the kiss-drunk look on his face, the spit-slick sheen on that fat bottom lip she wants nothing more than to sink her teeth into. 

Scully turns briefly to Skinner’s assistant, looking like the cat that got the cream. “I’ll be back tonight to collect.” 

The woman nods at her, smiling a little, having been the only one to know that Scully was making bets all along. 

Scully turns back to Mulder. “Come on, Mulder, I’m taking you out. My treat.” Mulder can only nod stupidly as she threads her arm through his and leads him down the hallway, past their gawking coworkers, to the elevator.

Skinner comes out of his office just before the elevator doors shut. He gives Scully a curt nod of approval, holding back a smile as he mutters, “fucking finally,” under his breath. The doors ding shut on Mulder’s eyes widening as Scully pulls him down and stands on tip-toes to whisper something in his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr (@impulsive-astrophile)! I also take prompts there :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for @momdadimpoppunk on Tumblr, based on the dialogue prompt: "Are you really taking his side right now?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Gen  
> Tags: Brief panic, fluff, pouty Mulder, Queequeg, Mulder is ridiculous but Scully love him, hurt/comfort

When Scully comes through the door of her apartment, arms laden with groceries, it’s with the expectation of finding Mulder locked in a staring contest with Queequeg. She’d caught him doing this often when he thought she wasn’t looking. 

What she _doesn’t_ expect is to find the main room torn apart - paintings knocked off the walls, vases shattered on the ground, couch cushions strewn across the floor, tables and chairs lying on their sides. 

She sets the paper bags down on the thankfully-still-standing entryway table, advancing into the room with her gun drawn. “Mulder? Mulder, are you here?” She loves Queequeg, but Mulder will always be her first thought. 

No response. Her mind immediately starts to run through all worst possibilities - he's been seriously injured, kidnapped, killed - when she hears barking from the hall closet. 

Both relieved and unnerved, she opens the closet door briefly to make sure Queequeg's okay before shutting it again. She doesn't need the dog getting underfoot while she checks the rest of the apartment. 

"Mulder?" She calls out again, this time hearing a groan come from her bedroom. 

Heart beating rapidly in her chest, Scully advances toward her bedroom door, one hand slowly twisting the knob. 

"Federal agent! Freeze!" She cries as she bursts into the room, half expecting to find the intruder sprawled on the ground. Instead, she finds Mulder splayed out on his back in the middle of her bed, ice pack resting on his head.

"Mulder,” she breathes, crossing the room in an instant. Mulder blinks blearily at her as she sets her gun on the bedside table and crawls to his side. “Mulder, what happened? Where are you hurt?” Her hands run gently over his body, searching for further injury.

“Just m’ head,” Mulder says, though his body would seem to disagree with him as a groan is forced from his lungs when he tries to sit up. Scully supports him on his next attempt, and together they get him propped up against the headboard. 

Scully pulls his shirt off for a visual inspection. “Jesus, Mulder.” 

He’s sporting a truly impressive bruise, long and straight, across the left side of his ribs. He winces as she probes it, but it’s small enough that she rules out any broken or cracked ribs. 

She pulls the ice pack off next, revealing crusted blood and a nasty looking cut surrounded by a bruise on his forehead. She touches it, feather-light. “What happened, Mulder? Who did this to you?” She demands, fully prepared to break the Hippocratic oath should she find them. 

“Queequeg,” Mulder answers seriously. 

Her thoughts screech to a halt. “What?” 

“It was your devil dog, Scully,” Mulder says. “It tried to kill me.” 

Scully lets out a surprised laugh. “Mulder, you can’t be serious.” 

“I’ve said it before, Scully, and I’ll say it again: that thing has it out for me.” He gestures to his head. 

“That’s ridiculous, Mulder.” Scully looks exasperated. “Queequeg’s just a dog; he doesn’t have the capacity for malicious intent.”

“Yes it does,” Mulder argues vehemently. “I’m living proof - barely.” 

Scully sighs, sitting back on her haunches. “Okay. What happened?” 

Mulder tells her; Queequeg had gotten ahold of a piece of plastic. Mulder knew that she’d kill him if anything happened to her dog while she was gone, so he’d tried to grab the plastic out of its mouth - but it evaded him, leading him on a chase all around the living room. 

He'd eventually caught the dog, but not before he’d crashed headlong into a chair and fallen against the edge of a flipped table. He’d promptly locked it in the closet and grabbed an ice pack from her freezer, laying down in her bed to lick his wounds. 

“Only you, Mulder,” Scully remarks drily when he’s finished, “could manage to wreck my apartment trying to catch a dog.”

“It wasn’t my fault!” He protests. “That thing is crafty - I swear it knew just where to stand so I’d crash into something every time I tried to jump after it.”

“Mulder,” Scully explains patiently, “dogs don’t think like that. He probably thought it was a game. Or he could’ve been scared of you because you were chasing him.”

Mulder’s mouth drops open. “Are you really taking his side right now?”

Scully tries to stifle a laugh at the betrayed look on his face. “I’m not taking any side, Mulder. I’m just telling you the facts.”

Mulder’s expression shifts into a heavy pout. Scully bites back a grin and reaches out to soothe him, but he shuffles out of range, petulant. 

Scully sighs. “Mulder, Queequeg does not have a vendetta against you.” She smiles at him. “But if it makes you feel better, I promise not to leave you alone with him again.” 

This seems to satisfy him; when Scully scoots closer and reaches out for him, he accepts the touch, letting her stroke his shoulders, back, arms, releasing tension as she goes. Eventually he lets her pull him into her arms, slipping agile fingers into his hair and wrapping a steady arm around his back.

He leans so heavily into the hand in his hair, almost purring, that a soft smile graces her features, unbidden. Lord, but does she love this man - her dramatic, ridiculous, passionate man. 

Queequeg starts barking then, and their peace is interrupted. Scully presses a soft kiss to Mulder’s neck, then pulls him up off the bed with her.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you cleaned up," Scully speaks softly, arm around his waist as she leads him out of the room.

  
  
  
BONUS: (inspired by @starbuck09256’s tags)

**Later that evening…**

“Mulder." 

Mulder snaps his glare away from Queequeg guiltily. “Sorry,” he mumbles, not sounding sorry at all. 

Scully sighs. “What is it, Mulder?" 

"Nothing,” he says, glaring at the hand petting Queequeg absently. He swears the dog looks smug. 

“Mulder…” 

“It’s just… how come the dog gets to sit on your lap but I don’t?” 

Suddenly it all clicks for Scully; Mulder’s _jealous_ of Queequeg! 

Well, she can fix that. 

“Go to bed, Queequeg,” she tells the dog, nudging him off of her lap. Queequeg trots off obediently. 

Scully stretches, then swings her leg over Mulder’s lap, straddling him. “Mulder,” she says seriously, taking his face between her hands and stroking a thumb over his pouting lips, “you don’t have to be jealous of Queequeg.” 

“Jealous? I’m not jea-” Mulder begins indignantly, but Scully puts both thumbs over his mouth now, effectively silencing him. 

“Mulder, I never want you to be jealous of Queequeg.” She strokes one hand through his hair, the other slipping under his collar to tease the skin there. “I know I give him a lot of attention - he’s a dog, he needs it. But you’ll always be my guy.” 

“Hmm. I’m not convinced,” Mulder says, but unfolds his arms anyway and rests his hands on her hips. “I think you’re gonna have to prove it.” 

“Oh yeah?” Scully drags her hand under his shirt, down, down, down to the first closed button. Deft fingers undo them with surgical precision, pausing to gently pinch one of his nipples. His sharp intake of breath makes her smirk. “How do you suggest I do that?” 

“I, uh,” Mulder says, a little dazed but still present enough to drop his hands down to cup her ass. “I have a few ideas.” His hands squeeze suggestively. 

Scully chuckles, rolling her hips forward to tease, pleased to find him already half hard. Smirking again, she unbuttons him and pulls down his fly. 

Mulder whimpers – the one she knows means _please give me more_ – as Scully grips him through his boxers and leans in close. “I have a few ideas, too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus scene inspired by the tags someone left on this chapter's tumblr post.
> 
> Come say hi on Tumblr (@impulsive-astrophile) if ya want! I also take prompts there :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for this prompt from @wtfmulder on Tumblr: mulder eats at olive garden w scully and puts breadsticks in his pockets to go home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: crack, this is pure crack  
> Rating: Gen

“Mulder, can you pass me the breadsti- oh.” Scully glances over to find the basket empty. Sighing, she flags down a waiter. 

When she asks if he could please bring them some more breadsticks, the boy raises both eyebrows, eyes going wide. “O-okay, ma’am,” he answers. He shoots them fearful looks the entire walk to the kitchen. 

Scully doesn’t blame him; this will be the fifth basket for the table. The poor kid’s probably telling the kitchen staff about the crazy woman at table two who won’t stop ordering breadsticks, wondering where they’re all going. 

Frankly, Scully is wondering the same thing. 

Well, not exactly. She knows it’s Mulder who’s responsible; he’d told her about his love of Olive Garden breadsticks a couple of months into their partnership - they’d stopped at one, and he’d explained it after having eaten a seemingly impossible amount while Scully looked on in bemusement. 

So, she knows it’s him. She’s just not sure how he’s doing it; every time she looks over at him, he always has a reasonable amount on his plate - not nearly enough to have them going through the breadsticks so fast. 

Finally, she breaks. “Okay, Mulder. How are you doing it?” 

“Doing what?” He asks innocently.

“How are you eating the breadsticks so fast I can’t see it?” Scully wants to know. 

He smiles at her, twirling pasta on his fork. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Scully,” he answers with a glint in his eyes. 

“Mulder-” she cuts herself off as the waiter returns with their breadsticks. She offers him a reassuring smile, but she can still see fear in his eyes as he walks away. 

Scully turns back to Mulder, scrutinizing him; he gives her his best ‘butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth’ look in return and she sighs, knowing she won’t get anything from him right now.

They go through two more baskets before they leave. She makes Mulder ask for them. 

Their coats are on and they’re almost outside when they’re stopped by the manager, flanked by their waiter and a waitress Scully had seen around. 

“That’s him, sir,” the waitress says to the manager. “I saw him doing it.”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to empty your pockets,” the manager says.

“Woah, haven’t you ever heard of civil liberties? No unreasonable search and seizure,” Mulder protests, hands laid protectively over the pockets in question. 

“Sir,” the manager says firmly, advancing on Mulder now. 

At Scully’s Look, Mulder relents, turning his pockets out to reveal the missing breadsticks and watching forlornly as they fall to the ground. Scully watches, too, counting at least 50 as they pile at her partner’s feet. She marvels, not for the first time, at the way men’s pockets seem to be able to hold so much.

The waitress lets out a little gasp, and their waiter is now looking at Mulder in fear instead of Scully. Even the manager looks shocked.

Scully tugs on Mulder’s arm, pulling him along as the manager tells him politely to “please never come back sir, we have your photo on our wall and all of our employees will be watching for you.”

“Mulder,” she begins when they get to the car, mortified, “why?”

“They’re _good_ ,” Mulder says, climbing into the passenger seat still looking a little sad.

“You can make them at home, Mulder,” Scully tells him as she pulls the driver’s seat forward as far as it will go. 

“But they’re just not the same!” Mulder insists. 

Scully sighs, shaking her head as she backs them out carefully. 

She doesn’t say anything else for a while, knowing that he’ll probably do this again and scolding him won’t make a difference. 

Then she gets a whiff of garlic. 

Scully looks over to find Mulder munching happily on a breadstick. “Mulder, where on earth were you hiding that?” 

Mulder grins at her. “Guess.”

“I will not.” Scully’s not even sure if she wants to know now. “Just tell me.”

She smacks him when he winks and waggles his eyebrows at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr (I'm @impulsive-astrophile)! I also take prompts on there if you wanna send any 👀


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: forehead kiss + cozy sweater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: fluff  
> Rating: Gen

When Scully wakes, the sun is low. Its soft orange light spills across every surface as if kissing them goodbye, casting the room in a muted yet ethereal glow. The TV hums quietly, playing something long forgotten.

Mulder, head in her lap, nestles closer to her, burying his nose somewhere near her navel. Sleepsoft and content, Scully nestles further into the soft sweater she’d stolen from Mulder and refused to return and rests a hand on his stomach, sliding the other into his hair, moving through it with practiced ease.

She doesn’t know how long she sits there, fingers running through his hair, soothed by the weight of him in her lap and the scent of him on the sweater she stole.

Eventually, Mulder stirs, blinking sleepily up at her. “Scully.” His smile is soft and lights his whole face up.

“Hey,” she greets, brushing the hair off of his forehead.

“What time is it?”

“It’s about 7:30. We’ve only been asleep for a couple hours.”

“I’m sorry,” he says genuinely, shifting to get up. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Your leg must be numb by now.”

“Hush.” Scully gently pushes him back down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’m happy right where I am, Mulder. You’re not too heavy for me.”

And he believes her.


End file.
